The demagogue in me

In The New York Times, Charles Blow describes the danger of the political undercurrent that seems to be gaining strength: ‘Donald thy name is division’. One Trump resolution may be more eerie than the next secretary’s appointment, but the real threat of Trumpism, according to Blow, lies in the advancing power of the world’s demagogues.

Why do I think he has a point? I live with such a demagogue. He talks to me from early in the morning until late at night. Twitter. Twitter. Twitter. Sometimes friend, sometimes foe, but usually somewhere in between, just inconspicuous enough to hold me in his power, but without my being aware of that power. Really genius.

If a President Trump has an advantage, it is this: every time he opens his mouth I know again: twist yes, also in me, I recognize that.

A meditative or contemplative life is not to stay in some kind of sweet zone where ‘all is well’, but, living in that sweet realization, the better to see the truth distorter and counterfeiter in myself. The burglar in what is, in who is. The demagogue.

Every time Trump says: ‘I am the solution’, I know again: yes indeed, in me the problem. Waking. There’s work to be done.

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